


i could dive so deep (i never come out)

by jikkyuu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Gore, Demon Summoning, Elevator Game, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Psychological Horror, Urban Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jikkyuu/pseuds/jikkyuu
Summary: It’s a bit fascinating, Byleth has to admit. He didn’t feel happy when he lost a bet with Claude, sure, and his first reaction after hearing the proposed penalty was to stare at the Almyran brat with barely concealed disbelief.A ritual to enter the world of death, really? What are they, seven and playing with ghosts?He presses the button for the second floor next.The door closes.
Relationships: Jeritza von Hrym/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Fodlan Frights Halloween Exchange 2020





	i could dive so deep (i never come out)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustofwarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/gifts).



> a fódlan frights exchange fic for the lovely @dustofwarfare!
> 
> despite my great love for m!byleth/jeritza it's only my first time writing them which - i can't lie - made me a bit nervous. i hope you'll still enjoy my short attempt at making byleth go crazy, haha.
> 
> happy halloween!

The door opens with a ding.

“Well then,” Claude says cheerfully, ushering him inside. “Enjoy the ride, Teach.”

Byleth obliges and takes a step forward, then turns around to give them one last look.

The corridor is dark, illuminated only by the light of the elevator and the ambient lights of the city sipping in through the windows. It’s late - sometime around midnight - and the rest of their co-workers have already gone home, leaving the building empty. The silence feels almost unnatural, especially when he’s so used to being surrounded by people.

The pair in front of him doesn’t seem to mind the eerie atmosphere; Claude gives him a small wave while Hilda giggles and raises her hands, waving around her crossed fingers.

“Good luck! And don’t you dare to chicken out, we’ll be watching you, you know!” Hilda exclaims, her eyes almost sparkling with excitement.

Byleth shrugs and presses the button with a shiny number 4 on it.

“Sure.”

The door closes.

The ascent is uneventful; the building is new, and so is the elevator. There’s no creaking floor or flickering lights, just a smooth sound of the metal cage moving upwards, against the gravity.

The door opens with a ding.

It’s a bit fascinating, Byleth has to admit. He didn’t feel happy when he lost a bet with Claude, sure, and his first reaction after hearing the proposed penalty was to stare at the Almyran brat with barely concealed disbelief.

A ritual to enter the world of death, really? What are they, seven and playing with ghosts?

He presses the button for the second floor next.

The door closes.

Despite the initial bewilderment, he agreed to doing it. Whether it was due to Claude’s constant prodding or due to his own morbid curiosity, Byleth couldn’t tell anymore; at this point it barely mattered as well. He is here, riding an elevator from one floor to another in a seemingly random pattern, staring at the familiar corridors with a blank expression and expecting…

What was he expecting, again?

The door opens with a faint ding.

Nothing is out of the ordinary - the same walls, the same closed doors, the same silence. Why would it be any other way? It’s just him, the empty building, and Claude laughing at his ire somewhere in the security room.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It won’t _change_ anything.

In a fit of anger, Byleth almost smashes the button with 6 on it.

The door closes.

As the elevator starts its ascent yet again, Byleth shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Hope you’re enjoying the show, von Riegan,” he mutters into the stale air trapped with him inside the metal cage.

Whether Claude hears him, he doesn’t know.

The door opens with a creak.

He’s about to push the next button and continue the meaningless farce when he notices - or rather feels, like this irrational sensation you can’t explain - that someone is watching him. It should be impossible, he saw the last of his co-workers leave; but that doesn’t make the heated gaze of a predator less real.

It’s so unexpected that he doesn’t know how to react.

Byleth stays still for what might as well be a whole eternity, not daring to take a look at the space beyond the elevator, his trembling hand hovering over the buttons. Each shaky exhale feels as loud as a scream, resonating through the deadly silent corridor. His whole body tells him to run, to move, to _get away from there_ as fast as possible, before _—_

He presses the button for the second floor again.

As the door starts to shut, he casts the last glance at the corridor.

There’s a person standing in the shadows, just at the edge of visibility. It’s impossible to see more than just a silhouette but somehow Byleth _knows_ that they are smiling.

The door closes.

His breathing is uneven, shaky; he feels like his mind is swimming. In order to ground himself back to reality, he presses his forehead against the cold metal of the elevator wall.

The door opens with a ding.

Without a moment of hesitation, Byleth slams the button for the tenth floor.

He’s almost done. There’s no need to prolong it more than necessary.

The door closes.

As if to mock him,

the ascent this time

seems to take forever;

so long that

despite the soft hum of the machinery pulling him up

he starts to doubt if the elevator even moved at all.

He’s both startled and relieved when the door finally opens with a ding.

There’s a puddle of crimson in the middle of the corridor, with dark, reddish marks and handprints adoring the floor around it and a dirty trail that leads into the elevator. Byleth takes a quick step back, trying to get as far away from it as possible, and bumps into the elevator wall - but when he feels the strange wetness on it he jerks away.

When he turns back, the whole wall is covered in blood.

He screams.

The blood disappears.

In a blind attempt at escape, Byleth pushes a random button, then the next - just to make the doors close faster, to make the smell of death disappear as soon as possible. He doesn’t care about the fucked up game anymore, not when with every passing floor he seems to go more and more crazy.

When he looks down, all buttons have the same number on them; willingly or not, he’s going to the fifth floor.

The door closes.

“Please,” he whispers against the metal walls of the elevator. “Please…”

The door opens with a ding.

The corridor is empty.

Byleth takes a moment to steady himself and take a deep breath. There’s no trace of the blood from the previous floor, both on the elevator wall and his hands; the buttons are also back to normal, the numbers from 1 to 10 glowing innocuously, as if inviting him for the next ride. Even the shadows beyond the ring of light seem harmless this time.

He presses the last button, for the first floor, hoping to get back to Claude and end this horrible game as soon as possible.

The door closes.

The button he’s chosen lights up.

Despite that,

the elevator starts moving up.

He presses the shiny number 1 again, and again, and again, and _—_

The door opens.

The lights go out.

He freezes in the corner of the elevator, helpless and barely able to breathe. It’s dark, unnaturally so, and he can feel the panic seep in, clutching him by the throat, rendering him powerless and shaking. He can’t tell if his eyes are closed or open anymore, since there’s little difference between the two.

He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants _—_

“Byleth?”

He’s barely able to contain a cry as he hears the familiar voice from just an arm’s length away.

“...Emile?”

Byleth wakes up with a stir.

For a moment, his vision is blurry and he doesn’t know where he is. As his eyes slowly get used to the brightness, he starts recognising his surroundings - wooden shelves full of books, a training spear in the corner, two familiar photographs sitting on top of the spotless desk, the dark, crimson curtains…

It’s Emile’s room. 

Byleth doesn’t remember how he got here. He doesn’t remember anything, apart from talking to Claude and Hilda, forcing a smile, reluctantly agreeing to _—_ something, he’s not sure what exactly. But it’s important, he knows it is, but there’s emptiness in his mind, like his thoughts are clouded, obscured by a fog, and _—_

Any sense of uneasiness is gone as soon as he hears a soft familiar sigh from behind. The sound is soon accompanied by an arm thrown around his waist, holding him protectively.

He’s warm, safe. He’s still confused, but it doesn’t feel _wrong_ anymore.

“Emile…?”

The person behind him hugs him tighter. Byleth can feel their breath on his shoulder, then a lingering kiss on the side of his neck.

“I’m here.” Emile’s voice is soft and breathy as he answers.

“I think I had a weird dream,” Byleth says slowly. His eyes focus on the photograph with Mercie and Emile; he can’t pinpoint what but something bothers him about it. “You died.”

He finds Emile’s hand and grips it tightly. There’s something warm and slightly sticky on it, but Byleth can’t find it in himself to mind as their intertwined fingers push deeper into his stomach, ripping through the soft skin and flesh and innards.

“It was just that, a dream,” Emile replies, painting the words against Byleth’s skin. They sound like a promise and a threat at the same time. “I’m here.”

Byleth lets out an anguished moan.

He notices it despite the pain, eventually. The photograph Emile stares right at him - a thin, red line on his throat, so similar to the cut that killed the real Emile just a few weeks ago.

(The door closes.)

“Yes,” Byleth whispers, surrounded by the metallic smell of blood and death, and the warm embrace of his lover. He closes his eyes as the other man leaves a kiss on his temple. “Yes, you’re here.”


End file.
